


The Countess Cathleen

by Arizonacolleen



Series: Sophie Hollander Guinevere Series [2]
Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Fencing, London, Training
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-16
Updated: 2019-01-16
Packaged: 2019-10-11 09:34:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17444357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arizonacolleen/pseuds/Arizonacolleen
Summary: Intimacy requires only willing participants.Love can make a sanctuary of anywhere.





	The Countess Cathleen

The chill was just leaving the air on a glorious March morning, and Sophie Hollander was in love. She walked toward the Fulham Broadway tube station, her mind a million miles away and a queer smile on her face. It made no difference to her that he was currently on the other side of the world - he was polish and elegance and everything wonderful, and he loved her back. Her tasteful flats sounded against the platform as she walked along merrily and found a seat on the train. Harry went out just after the new year, and with each passing day she seemed to look forward to seeing him more. She never worried about him, convinced that he would quash any challenge as completely as he had conquered her heart. Sophie blushed at the thought, concealing her giddy smile behind her copy of the Times and examining the headline silently. The train stopped at Notting Hill Gate, and Sophie followed the flow of traffic onto the Central Line, bound for Bond Street.

It seemed to her like a miracle. Years of going through the motions, working through school then training and all-of-a-sudden this perfect man simply appeared. Sophie tried to remain practical, reminding herself that he is merely a man who seemed perfect to her intense, besotted enchantment. She remembered that she should not allow her dreamy captivation to sweep her away when she could be assigned a new case abroad any day now. Now was the time to focus and keep her feet firmly touching ground. Sophie smiled in the privacy of the tube.  
No. Harry Hart was absolutely perfect.  
Sophie emerged from the underground station, strolling past the various shop fronts as she made her way to her beloved and dubious tailor shop. She had a single fencing class to teach, but she loved the shop: the smells, the pregnant silence it contained, and the fabrics which rested heavy in her hand. Sophie respected this noble trade, and found it intoxicating to witness.

 

“Form a circle,” Sophie instructed, watching as the six men formed a ring before stepping into the center of it. Her immaculate spartan jacket gleamed as she slowly turned, silently examining each agent. “When do we graduate to our own dress whites?” Bedivere quipped as she passed.   
“When…” she replied, bored, “you splash out your own dosh and buy one.” She cut him a smirk briefly before lifting her saber and clearing her throat to silence any remaining chatter. “Now,” she instructed, “Gareth, you come at me and I will counterattack. Then Bedivere, Gawain, Lancelot, and so forth until Percival. Once Percival and I have sparred, we shall change places and the ring begins again until each fencer has had a opportunity in the center.” Sophie looked around, “Everyone understand? I want at least two actions per pairing. Each round should not exceed ninety seconds. Gentleman, let’s begin!”

While the men took turns lunging in their futile attempt to disarm her, above them Harry paused a moment to spy through the observation platform. He smiled subtly, his eyes shining as she dodged and countered each blow with remarkable speed. It had been months since he held her, and as he watched each man drop before her she remained above them all like _The Countess Cathleen_. Harry had made flirtations, briefly, in the past but none seemed to linger so effortless in his mind nor prove so delicious to indulge as this sometimes delicate but unexpectedly powerful nymph. Watching her graceful and conquering demonstration made his heart race. He wanted to march down, sweep her in his arms and taste her right there amidst the tools of their sometimes violent trade, but this was not to be. Harry watched the ring conclude, closed his coat, and left the observation platform in silence. 

Truth be told, he was somewhat grateful for this vantage as he was uncertain if his expression might soften in her presence and give them away. Sophie feared their romance being exposed and possibly harming one of their careers - a point Harry had to admit was a fair one. Moreover, Sophie was certain it would be her who would get the broom, given to a disdain she was convinced Arthur harbored for her. Harry did not understand her fear, but decided not to challenge it. It was his job to love her through her journey after all, not attempt to pilot it himself. Harry secretly liked listening to her spooling out her concerns, in his arms as they lay drifting to sleep. In so doing, she showed she trusted no other man as much as he, which was the most valuable intimacy one could receive in their chosen profession.   
Tailoring was often a lonely business. Or it had been until that day in the elevator.

“Do not let the saber become a substitution for good point work,” Sophie instructed, pacing as the men continued in paired exercise, “this skill will prove a huge advantage over an opponent. I want you all to find a space within your flat and mark it off with tape. Daily practice is the key, gentlemen.” Sophie squared her shoulders, her gaze sweeping over the group as a hopeful smile formed. “I’ve been taking courses at my club,” Lancelot remarked, “next round Guinevere, and it’ll be you on this mat.” Sophie’s smile thinned and she tilted her head slightly as she replied, “I look forward to it Lancelot. Do dress the occasion when you decide to teach me a lesson, hm?” Sophie punctuated the silence following her comment by looking her fellow agent up and down, blinking several times in dismissal. “Truly, the only thing required to best me,” she announced, “is practice. **If** one is able to, of course. I encourage you all to try in time. Dismissed.”

Sophie stepped back from the mat, unbuttoning the top button from her jacket and letting the corner fall as she collected a cloth from the supply shelf and patted her brow. “Guinevere!” Percival called, “You are still attending the dance instruction this afternoon, aren’t you? I’m afraid you’re going to be our star pupil given your…well...” Percival stammered, falling short though Sophie huffed, an understanding smile on her face. In her experience, her sex proved a stumbling block regardless of the agent’s intention. This was simply the reality of the job, and she accepted it. “Yes,” she sighed happily, “I will be there this afternoon. I have a tea reservation, and I’ll be along just after, around 1700, if that suits?”   
Percival nodded thankfully as Sophie blew the an idle strand of hair from her face, dropping the cloth into the basket and leaving the gym to change. 

Freshly showered, Sophie dropped her gym bag into her locker before collecting her handbag and turning to leave the shop. From the dining room, Harry thought to catch her when Percival intercepted him. “Galahad,” he said pleasantly, “welcome back! Can I count on you to join my refresher course in dance this afternoon? We have a rare treat today: Guinevere will be on hand to take turns as partner. What say you?” Harry looked at him, considering his inquiry before watching her leave. “I thought Guinevere just left?” he asked, his tone indifferent. Percival glanced over his shoulder, “She’s just going to tea, but will be back in time for the class at 1730. Can I put you down for attendance?” Harry looked back at him, blinking absentmindedly before he shook his head. “Can’t, I’m afraid,” he replied, “I have a previous engagement. In fact, I really should be off.” Harry lifted his case file in demonstration as Percival shrugged, “Suit yourself, but you are missing out.”

“I’m certain you are right,” Harry agreed happily, stepping past him through the hall to the shop. A tea appointment could only mean Fortnum and Mason, and with it being a weekday afternoon there was a strong chance they might be willing to accommodate him without reservation. Harry decided to take the risk, walking along with the aspiration of a secret date filling his dreamy imagination. He entered the large dining room, passing his trenchcoat to the hostess before sweeping the dining room in search of her. His eyes settled blissfully over his beloved as he was shown to his small booth; admiring the chevron pattern of her dress as she sat reading the extensive menu. Sophie lowered the menu, her soft sigh fading as she spotted Harry across the dining room and her smile spread across her face slowly. He gazed back at her for an intense moment, lifting his glasses with one hand and repositioning them on his face. 

This signal was not missed, as Sophie coyly opened her purse and slipped her glasses on before looking back carefully. Harry watched as he blink slowed, her eyes lowering quickly before rising back to find him. It was Harry’s turn to smile, his radiant warmth filling his face.   
Sophie’s eyes fluttered upward, and she began blinking in Morse code. Harry tapped his glasses, setting the translator as he gazed across at her.

-.-- --- ..- / .-.. --- --- -.- / .- / .-.. --- - / .-.. .. -.- . / .- / -- .- -. / .. / ..-. .- -. -.-. -.-- .-.-.-

_You look a lot like a man I fancy._

She finished, pausing to place her order as Harry read the translation. Chuckling to himself, he waited patiently until her attention returned before replying:

.-- .... .- - / .- / .-.. ..- -.-. -.- -.-- / -- .- -. .-.-.-

_What a lucky man._

Sophie’s eyes shined as she read his reply, and as she poured her tea she casually blinked back:

.. / .- -- / ... --- / .... .- .--. .--. -.-- / - --- / ... . . / -.-- --- ..- .-.-.-

_I am so happy to see you._

Harry looked back at her passionately, responding:

-.-- --- ..- / .- .-. . / ... --- / -... . .- ..- - .. ..-. ..- .-.. .-.-.-

_You are so beautiful._

Sophie blushed, raising the tea cup to her lips and lowering her gaze as the rosy pink bloomed in her cheeks. Harry placed his order, pridefully absorbing her response as he made his selection and passed the menu back to the waiter. Sophie admired his wrists, adding a sugar cube to her tea.

... ..- --. .- .-. ..--.. / - .... .- - .----. ... / ..- -. .-.. .. -.- . / -.-- --- ..- .-.-.-

_Sugar? That’s unlike you._

Harry blinked back, casually though his eyes were smoldering in a way that made Sophie slightly dizzy. She ached for him, and as his pot of tea arrived Sophie found herself despising ever other person in the room - perhaps in the world. Why could everyone not leave them in peace, so Harry could devour her as she dreamed? Alas, sugar would have to satiate this craving, howbeit poorly.

.. / -. . . -.. / - .... . / . -. . .-. --. -.-- .-.-.-

_I need the energy,_

she explained, taking another sip. Both paused briefly as their waiters arrived, placing a tiered tray onto each table. Sophie hummed softly before selecting a scone and a small pot of clotted cream and draping her napkin across her lap.

\- .... .- - .----. ... / .-. .. --. .... - -.-.-- / .. / .... . .- .-. / -.-- --- ..- .----. .-.. .-.. / -... . / -.. .- --.. --.. .-.. .. -. --. / - .... . / ..-. --- --- - .-.. .. --. .... - ... -.-.--

_That's right! I hear you'll be dazzling the footlights!_

Harry signaled, his humor splashed across his face as the message was translated and Sophie quickly read over it. He watched her eyebrows lift as she quickly looked back to him, hopeful.

.-- .. .-.. .-.. / -.-- --- ..- / -... . / - .... . .-. . ..--..

_Will you be there?_

Sophie asked, taking a bite of her cucumber sandwich as she tried to contain her optimism. Harry considered her sanguine expression as his expression slowly grew cloudy. Without needing to respond, his face made the reality clear.

.. / -.. --- -. .----. - / - .... .. -. -.- / .. - / .-- --- ..- .-.. -.. / -... . / .-- .. ... . --..-- / -.-. .- -. .- .-. -.-- .-.-.-

_I don't think it would be wise, Canary._

Sophie read the words, her expression fading. She swallowed, knowing he was right yet feeling her heart break a little as she acknowledged this. She nodded once, to herself in silent acceptance of this fact. There may as well be the world between them.  
It felt as though the whole world were between them.  
Sophie sniffed, chiding herself for not being grateful for this moment. The man she loved was not around the world, but here before her eyes and safe. Sophie was immediately ashamed for her selfishness, wrinkling her brow as she thought of it. Harry watched her, unsure of what she was thinking yet uninspired by her expression. She looked crestfallen. Harry hated that expression.

.. / ... .... --- ..- .-.. -.. / --. --- .-.-.- / .. / .-.. --- ...- . / -.-- --- ..- / .... .- .-. .-. -.-- .-.-.-

_I should go. I love you Harry._

Sophie signaled, signing the check.

Harry nodded slightly, watching her collect her handbag and step to the ladies’ room in silence. He quickly signed his check, producing his coat check ticket and waiting for his coat. Out of nowhere, Sophie exited the ladies’ room, bumping into Harry and stumbling on her feet. “My goodness,” she exclaimed softly, “I’m so terribly sorry sir. Please forgive me.” Harry caught her elbow, offering to help her regain her balance. “Not at all,” Harry replied kindly, “it’s quite alright. Think nothing of it.” Sophie glanced up for a moment, sighing as she timidly responded, “I’m sorry,” and quickly left him. She stepped to the lift without looking back, parting as strangers in the open and public space. Harry listened to each chime as the lift carried her farther and farther away from him. His focus was shaken when his coat arrived, and he accepted it with a meek smile. 

Harry took the stairs, noting the spring rain that beat against the windows along the stairwell as he continued to the door. He reached for his gloves, stopping when he felt an unfamiliar mass in his pocket. Lifting it from his pocket, he smiled intensely. Sophie had slipped her key into the pocket as she bumped into him, a clear invite for that evening. Harry squeezed the key in his grip, wondering who she might be dancing with at that moment. Was he appreciating getting to be so intimate with her out in the open? Was he falling in love with her smile? Was he brilliant enough to be devastated by her beauty, or simply another oblivious fool in her orbit? He looked up, grinning at the befrocked footman statue at the head of the arm rail and turning left to enter the main food hall. This evening would call for roses, and for champagne. Tonight they would carve out an island together, where only they existed. Tonight silence would not have to be their sanctuary.

 

Sophie turned onto Waldemar Av, practically skipping as she eagerly walked home. It had been a long but surprising day, and she took the stairs up to her flat two at a time, holding her breath the entire time. Hoping to surprise him, Sophie pulled the pick from her heel and worked as quietly as possible to trip the cylinder, releasing the lock to open her door and creep in. She stopped immediately though, gasping audibly at the gorgeous splay of white roses resting in the center of her coffee table. Giddy with anticipation, Sophie closed the door, stalking down the hallway to seek him out. “Harry?” she called playfully, peeking into her bedroom but finding it empty. She turned back, her shoulders dropping as she looked into her office but found it empty as well. Sophie swallowed hard, walking back to the flowers in bemusement as she acknowledged she was alone in her flat. Beside the roses, her keys rested with a folded note.

Sophie brushed the petals with her fingertips before slowly reaching for the note. She felt lightheaded with dysphoria, both excited to read his poetry and certain it meant that this night would not end in his arms. She held the heavy paper in her hands, shrugging her coat from her shoulders and letting it drop to the floor around her as she skimmed each world in the suddenly oppressive silence of her flat. Sophie marveled at how merely the knowledge of him turned her happy sanctuary into a barren space. Love, once tasted, overwhelms the palette. Once consumed, nothing else will satisfy its absence. Sophie brushed the back of her right calf idly with her left foot, rereading the note:

__

> _Dearest Canary,_  
>  How I planned this evening in my mind, first with champagne   
> only to carry you to bed and explore the vast continent of your  
> loveliness. Alas my dearest, duty called me away.   
> Please know that only my devotion to our calling could possibly   
> be responsible for keeping me away from you tonight.  
> We are Kingsman - above all things.  
> I love you. I miss you. All my thoughts are with you. 

Sophie lowered the paper, sighing softly. She wanted to be cross with him for leaving evidence of a relationship behind, but she couldn’t bring herself to that resolve. She was, instead, heartsick at the missed opportunity the night had become.

She flopped across the armchair, smelling the paper before she skimmed his words in an effort to commit them to memory. Her eyes drifted up to the ceiling, tabbing through the keyboard of her glasses to send a subtle message to Galahad in response to his sentiment. At HQ, Harry stood in his tactical gear, awaiting deployment when his glasses vibrated softly and called his attention. Casually surveying his supplies, he checked the message privately:

_Thank you for the beautiful flowers._

He smiled, imagining her cozy in her flat with his words in her hands. Sophie gazed up, mildly bored when her glasses buzzed softly in response:

 _Were I there, those petals would be laid at your delicate feet. I am sorry, pet._  
Sophie felt the warmth flood her cheeks, closing her eyes to imagine him there with her.

Drawing her fingers along the inside of her dress, Sophie lifted the hem of the skirt and slowly stroked between her thighs. She moaned softly, opening her eyes to reply to his message. Harry busied himself with inconsequential tasks as he awaited her response, quietly returning:

_I am currently sailing the waters of this continent,  
my nimble vessels crying out for your stewardship…_

Harry’s breath caught in his throat as he read her sultry comment, a meager whimper escaping him. Certain he was flushed at the thought, he looked around with the acute fear that others might be aware of his focus. He quickly realised that was not possible, and once the fleeting panic passed Harry found himself filled with mischievous exhilaration in its wake. He released his held breath, thinking momentarily before sending his next message.

Sophie squeezed the paper in her free hand, crushing it as her glasses buzzed and she opened her eyes to read his reply:

_I’m barely away and you’re already playing with my things? Tsk, tsk…_

Sophie laughed, her soft giggles fading to moans as she began to tremble slightly.

 _Tell me you are coming back and I’ll stop this second my love._

Harry smiled, her longing for him bittersweet. Loading his supply pack onto the plane, he lingered slightly behind the support crew in the hope of finishing this exchange before takeoff.

 _Don’t you dare stop. Do not send me out on such a tragic note Canary._

As her panting reached a crescendo, Sophie decided to be bold, pressing her temple and calling out, “Call Galahad.”

In the hangar, Harry read the ID on his glasses, and excused himself as the rest of the crew began to board for taxi and departure. He said nothing, listening as her breathing and gentle moans filled his ears from the onset of the call. He leaned against a support beam within the hangar, quixotic as he listened to her strained bliss. “That’s it pet,” he coaxed softly, drunk with euphoria for her, “I’m listening to every moment and every breath. Please. For me. The longing and desire in his voice overwhelmed her; her moans growing erratic as Harry listened to her succumb and fade into contented mewls of sleepy afterglow. She curled up in her armchair, and for a few precious moments they listened to one another breathing as though no one else existed. With a soft hum, Sophie clicked her tongue and swallowed before whispering sweetly, “Be safe Galahad.”   
“Always,” he assured her, ending the call to quickly rejoin the group aboard the plane. 

 

Sophie enjoyed the afterglow in the silence of her apartment, passing the time idly before she slowly stood and walked to her kitchen. There, she switched on her kettle and collected a glass ashtray from the cabinet overhead. She skimmed the note a final time before striking a match and setting it alight. Harry was quite right - they were Kingsman above all things.   
Harry stepped onto the plane, taking his seat in silence. He opened the Times, pretending to read as his mind lingered on his dearest love in her simple flat. He never thought he might feel something so intensely, yet the idea of her made him feel capable of anything. What might love could endow. It made no difference to him that the call ended without the traditional outpourings of affection. Harry was on his way the other side of the world, but his thoughts were on Sophie. She was everything, absolutely everything: clever and beautiful, and she loved him back.

They both smiled, separately, contented in this reality.


End file.
